


The Demons Inside Us

by Destiny_in_the_Universe



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Blood Loss, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, F/M, Graphic Description, Hurt Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Waterboarding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 17:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_in_the_Universe/pseuds/Destiny_in_the_Universe
Summary: The darkness that resides within people have always existed, pulsing inside someone's very beingTony's new disappearance shouldn't count as anything out of the ordinary, but as more time goes on, the more the situations becomes immensely risky. Time is ticking and it's only a matter of time before his spirit breaks





	The Demons Inside Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Buckets_Of_Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buckets_Of_Stars/gifts).



> TW: This will contain heavy subject matter and the portrayal of mental illnesses, especially in the concept of PTSD. The first chapter WILL have TORTURE; if this is something that the people reading cannot handle, then by all means... go find something else to read

Inhale, exhale… 

His eyes kept staring ahead at the damp, darkened wall of the building he was being held in, not even bothering to say a word as he was dragged down the hallway and shoved into a room, the door slamming with a close behind him. His hands fell limp at his sides, seemingly uncaring when they were wrenched above his head, fastened in place by a pair of dirty, clearly rusty shackles. 

His feet just barely touched the ground, and his bottom lip trembled, not in the mood to talk. His mouth was stained with the copper-feel of blood, causing him to choke slightly on it, before he finally just stopped paying attention to it. His eyes held an emptiness to them, his mind clouded on what had happened before, still trying to wrap his mind around it. 

The smell of the smoke when the building where he was in had gone up in flames, sending him in a frenzied coughing and crawling down on his knees to find a way out. All he could remember was failing her all over again, because he’d been too blind to notice something wasn’t right. The explosion had been a distraction, since the moment he found a way out, he had been grabbed and a cloth pressed over his nose and mouth until he passed out from inhaling the chloroform. 

“I’m glad we managed to find you,” a voice spoke clearly, the person in question entering the room. Whoever they were had a darkened smile, their features clearly marking them as someone who had been in a fight of some kind, judging by the scar that trailed one side of his lip. “It was such a hassle, and here we are.” He smirked, the cold and calculating gray eyes boring into his captive’s like a predatory wolf. 

“What do you want from me?” The current prisoner whispered, eyes losing that spark they once carried. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious?” The kidnapper grinned. 

“What- just… kill- kill me already,” he snarled, his lips pursed tightly. The look that showed itself in his face was haunting, like he was on the verge of simply giving up instead of trying to keep fighting. “Why are you doing this?” 

Involuntarily jerking back from the tightening hold on his face, the prisoner panted, tongue coming out slightly as he forced himself not to tremble from the rush of pure panic and fear coursing in his person. 

“I want to see you  _ break _ ,” the kidnapper cooed, a knife pressed against the other’s cheek. “Now, are you going to scream for me, Anthony Stark?” 

With a burning, livid growl, the billionaire spat on his captor’s face. He was growing fed up with this nonsense, having come across the thought he was taken as a result of being an Avenger. Tony’s lips curled up into a vicious snarl, a harsh, heavy panting escaping him. 

“You’re going to regret that!” 

Gray eyes flashed, and within seconds, the captor’s knife slipped into skin. With the blade as sharp as it was, there was a loud, pained yelp, leaving his kidnapped victim gasping for air at the sensation. 

“Do y-your worst then.” Tony spat, feeling a sudden sense of determination surge through him. 

“I’m impressed. I was certain that you were so… distraught when you were brought here,” his captor cooed, his choice of weapon twirling through his fingers. 

“Ta-Takes more th-than to break me.” Tony snarled, refusing to flinch away even at the sight of the weapon. 

“Fine then. Let’s see how long you last in my hands. Oh, and my name is Cyrus.” 

The explosion was still clear in Tony’s mind, unable to block out the rubble that had almost crushed him. His hands still held a slight tremor to them as a remembrance to it, a sharp, shaky sigh leaving his lips when he did so. 

Cyrus grinned at him before leaving the man to his own thoughts for the night, making way towards the metal door that led out into the hallway. 

Tony didn’t sleep that night, his darkened thoughts clouded, knowing full well he would likely be presumed dead. His mind wandered to Pepper, his wonderful, beautiful Pepper. His lips pressed in thought, the billionaire growling beneath his breath at the idea of him failing her once more. 

There was really no telling how long he would be held here, in this damp, dark prison where he was a hassle to even move due to the shackles being positioned over his head. During his kidnapping in Afghanistan, he fought and struggled, refusing to be seen as weak though judging by what was occurring now… trying to get out of these restraints wouldn’t work. 

Tony had already reached the prediction he would be tortured, judging by Cyrus’ behavior of wanting to break him. 

When morning came, or rather when his twisted captor entered the room again, Tony merely scowled. A harsh, fierce glare fell onto the engineer’s face, teeth baring slightly in aggression. He refused to give whim on showing weakness, especially not when he could easily notice the ruthlessness etched on Cyrus’ face. 

“Do you really think you would be able to outlast what I’ve got planned for you?” Cyrus smirked, stalking over to his prisoner with a dark, insane look in his eyes as he undid the shackles and caught Tony before he fell to the ground. 

Tony snarled, his instincts of fight or flight kicking in as he tried to pull away from the man, though only ended up with a hard blow to the stomach which left him reeling and wheezing from the hit. He was dragged into a different room, the panic flaring even harder now at the sight of the metal table with an array of torture weapons. 

“You w-won’t-” 

The Avenger was knocked to the ground, and he tried to scramble away, but was pulled back towards his captor. He gasped, jerking away again from Cyrus, pinned in place by one hand holding his wrists down. 

“Get off!” 

Thrashing wildly in desperate attempts to get away, Tony let out a cry of pain leave his lips when a sharp object came down to neatly be pressed against his neck. It wasn’t enough to draw blood, but enough that it would put cease to his fighting. 

Cyrus cooed, “careful, Stark. I wouldn’t want to accidentally-” 

Pressing down harder, a small trickle of blood formed on Tony’s skin, emitting a soft pained noise from the billionaire. 

“- nick you.” 

Tony growled, though he didn’t scream. He downright refused to, no matter how horrible the agony was. Even then, it had just been a nick, nothing more. Maybe Cyrus was trying to trick him somehow. 

“Don’t even try to do anything else.” Tony spat. 

The dangerous gleam in his captor’s eyes were flashing vividly, the cold and emotionless grin that was plastered on his lips. It was haunting, like watching a predator about to devour its prey in only moments of pounce, or tooth and claw. A wolf that had gone rogue from the need to hunt and kill, its need for a pack having faded away from its mind and only acting on pure, raw and quite animalistic instincts. 

Cyrus laughed, as he suddenly moved off of Tony, only to swiftly dodge the sudden attempts of his chosen prey to lunge at him as a response. He was clearly analyzing his next move, hearing the annoyed grunt that escaped the billionaire’s lips. 

“Are you done trying to resist me?” 

Tony panted, though it was clear he remained fueled by his need to escape. He barely had time to react as the taller male lifted him by the front of his tattered, ripped dress shirt. Suddenly kicking and squirming in an attempt to get away, he tried to avoid showing any ounce of fear in spite of that. 

Cyrus suddenly flung the male against the floor, making it in such a fashion where Tony couldn’t even attempt to get away. He didn’t react to the sound of the sickening crack that rang out in the air as a result of a broken wrist from how hard the engineer had been knocked into the metal ground. 

Tony attempted to stand, though he only fell back down, tears shining in his eyes from the agony of his wrist and the twisted ankle that had formed from the way he’d come down. He couldn’t find it in himself to do more than roll onto his back, his stomach exposed. 

Cyrus held him down with the sole of his shoe, grinning down at his prey with cold indifference. He flicked out his knife and trailed the tip through Tony’s stomach, not caring when the other’s skin quivered as a result or even the very slight trembling of the lip. 

“I can make this a whole lot harder for you, Stark, if you don’t cooperate.” 

“What do you hope to achieve from this?” 

“Oh, nothing much, but maybe I would like to hear you scream.” 

Tony went limp, only to yowl in agony when the knife suddenly embedded into his ribs. His wheezing was even worse now, unable to control the fact he was seeing double, black spots dancing in his line of sight. 

“That’s it,” Cyrus purred, the clear, twisted sense of mind he held becoming significantly more evident. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Though, we’re far from being done.” 

The engineer had no idea what happened next because the moment he tried to speak, he coughed up blood before going entirely limp, having passed out from the pain flaring down his side. He awoke with his wrists shackled again, a stifling groan leaving his lips. 

He gagged, trying to speak, before realizing there was an old cloth tied around his mouth. Tony tested the fabric, pushing against with his tongue though quickly noticing it was doing absolutely nothing since it was tied completely around his head as he felt the knot behind him. 

Hadn’t Cyrus wanted him to scream, or was this another part of the sickened thoughts that came from the gray-eyed, cold captor? 

Muffled sounds of protest escaped him when he noticed that a different person, who wasn’t Cyrus, entered the room. Tony’s eyes narrowed, dilated into slits. He refused to go down without a fight now, ignoring the way his arms currently ached from his restraints. 

The other person who entered was a man with curly dark hair, and very simplistic brown eyes, a small trimmed beard showing itself on his chin. Down his right shoulder, one would be able to see half of scarred tissue, a result from some kind of old burn. He wasn’t smiling, only watching Tony with an almost blank look on his face. 

“He really did a number on you, huh?” The man spoke, his words coated in a smooth Texan accent. 

Tony snarled, his words muffled by the gag. 

“I’m not tryin’ to hurt you,” the stranger grunted, eyes narrowing though he didn’t seem to have a single weapon on his person. 

Making his way over to Tony, the man simply removed the cloth and prodded at the cut on the captive’s cheek. 

“S’about time that go’ checked,” he commented, pulling out a rag and dabbing it there, avoiding the fact that Tony was trying to get away from him. “Don’ keep pulling away. Won’t do you any good.” 

“Got a name? Or maybe I’ll just call you short stuff.” Tony snapped. 

Short Stuff really came from the fact that this stranger was only about 5’7 at best, though he didn’t comment on the name and simply stated, “the name is Alonzo.” 

Tony quirked up a brow at the name, surprised that it was an Italian name when this ‘Alonzo’ sounded American. 

“My folks were Italian and American, which is why I go’ the name like that.” Alonzo answered. 

“You should let me go if you know what’s-” 

The sudden sound of footsteps, and a familiar, hearty chuckle rang out. Cyrus was leaning against the open door like a cat, his gray eyes falling on Alonzo treating Tony’s injuries. 

“Alonzo, leave us.” 

Alonzo debated saying something, though he quickly sighed, leaving the room without glancing towards Tony. 

“Did you sleep well?” Cyrus mocked, knowing full well that his prisoner hadn’t. 

Tony scowled, “oh, of course.” 

“Ready for round two?” 

A grin formed itself on Tony’s lips, a sharp laugh escaping him. 

“Sure thing, you dangerous predator,” he replied, and he suddenly gasped as a hand collided against his cheeks, leaving behind a throbbing sensation. 

The next thing he knew, Tony was being shoved into the ground, unprepared to stop the onslaught of kicks and punches aimed his way. He tried to jerk away, attempted to fight but his wrist and ankle kept him defenseless. 

By the end, bruises were littering his chest, face, and down his back, along with a sporting a black right eye. Tony’s wheezes as he tried to move rang out and he gasped as a hand curled around his hair, lashing out with a swift kick. 

Why wouldn’t Cyrus just let him go? 

Cradling his injured arm and trying to get some air in his legs, he was only faintly aware of the fact he was thrown into a pitch-black room, no sign of light anywhere. Panic seized at him, and he scrambled forward, using his other hand to feel the ground for anything strange. 

Though, he quickly realized he’d heard a click, meaning he was trapped inside.

The panic flared up again, and he finally curled into himself, rocking his body back and forth. His eyes were squeezed tightly, small, pained whimpers leaving his lips. Tony was in the middle of an attack, finding it harder and harder to stay awake. 

When he was released, he had been curled up in a corner, half conscious while he whimpered beneath his breath. He couldn’t find it in himself to move and had to be hauled up, not even attempting to struggle in his dissociated state. 

Cyrus grinned at this. Oh, it was finally working! 

“Can’t even find it in yourself to come back and fight, hm?” 

Tony began to slowly come back down to his regular state, the billionaire adjusting his eyes to the dimly-lit holding cell. 

“Why don’t you just kill me?” He spat. 

Cyrus smirked, “but the fun’s only just started, Stark. We’re not done.” 

“What more can you do to me?” 

He’d spoken too soon. Tony yelped when he was grabbed by the hair, forcibly dragged to another room. The engineer wrinkled his nose in distaste as a horrid odor filled the place, and his blood suddenly ran cold at the sight of a tub and a rag right beside him. 

Tony trembled violently, trying to get away from his captor and clawing helplessly at Cyrus’ arms, nails digging into skin. He barely had time to react as he was dunked head first into the ice cold tub, filled to the brim with water. 

The billionaire struggled, his panicked screams muffled by the water, as he tried to get out but was submerged back under just as fast. Tony kicked and fought hard, screeching before he rammed the side of his body up against his captor, desperate. 

Tears fell down his face as he was pulled back out, the engineer biting back whimpers as he tried to get his bearings back together. He really had no idea how long he had been here, but he surmised it was a minimum of three days at best. 

He had no idea what was to become of him. 

Hadn’t he been tormented enough? 

Cyrus smirked as he tossed the rag at Tony, the torturer making his way to hauling Tony back out to his regular holding cell. He put the shackles back onto his captive and then left him there. 

Tony lost all sense of time afterwards. He had screamed from the torture until his voice was so raw, he couldn’t even speak. His eyes, once holding that brilliant raging fire, was gone, replaced by pure blankness. 

There were no attempts to fight anymore, his will completely broken. 

If he had been here months, he didn’t even know. 

It was an endless pit of falling down, down, down an abyss. A forming darkness that clouded his mind, the thoughts and feelings of despair, anguish, and emptiness eating up at him. 

His life was bleak, meaningless. 

Being an Avenger only covered up his insecurities, his struggles, his nightmares. 

He was sinking, his pleading going unheard, but maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to let himself slip away. 

He didn’t think he’d ever be found and after the coiled, twisted words formed by Cyrus, he had given up on rescue. Down, down, down the well he was falling. 

Tony had tried so, so hard to focus on some kind of light, but it had faded. 

Maybe this was the end. 


End file.
